This is so overdue. I have no excuse. I'm sorry. Maybe this will make up for it? I tried to make it longer than usual. It, as always, is unedited. I actually haven't even read through it, so I don't know if it makes sense or not. Good luck.

Chapter 14

Location: Somewhere in the Ocean

Date: 9/4/2014

Time: 02:37

Subject: Jemma Simmons

They were in a box on the bottom of the ocean. A box on the bottom of the ocean. Gemma despaired. Enough oxygen for one. And that one would not be Fitz. Pressing her face into his neck, she felt sticky tears slide down her cheeks. It couldn't end like this. It can't end like this. There was no hope for them, not unless they made it. Ninety feet to the surface. Even if they made it out, the odds of her making it to the surface in one breath were high. Almost too high. She pulled away from Leo, pulling her phone out of her pocket. There was no service down here. She knew there wouldn't be. But it didn't stop her from desperately pressing the call button. Trying to ring Perseus Jackson. He said that if she ever needed help, he'd be there. She needed help. And she couldn't contact him. Tossing her phone away from her in a desperate scream of rage, Fitz embraced her once more.

"Jemma," he said, "Jemma. This is the only way." He pulled away. Pushed the button. Her panic was drowned in the rapid onrush of water. The force of it punched her in the guts, she felt her ribs creak. She took a breath. The breath. Their one breath of air, and kicked toward the surface.

But… it was so far away, and Fitz was dead weight beneath her. Jemma wouldn't let him go, could never let him go. He was Fitz, they would die together, or not at all. She kicked, her legs working furiously, lungs burning with effort. And then the desire to take a breath, the absolute screaming of her chest, she was going to die, she knew it. She swum feebly, weakly, until Fitz's weight began to drag her back down into the depths. She was going to die. They were both going to die. Her vision whited out, unconsciously, despite her internal screaming at herself not too, she took a breath. Salt water rushed in her mouth, down her throat, filling her lungs. She choked on it, hot tears going unnoticed in the sea.

And then there was air, and she was desperately coughing up water and bile, the back of her throat burning. She cradled Fitz's head in her lap, checking for a pulse. There, but soft, fluttering weakly against the pressure of her fingertips. She looked up, this, what was happening, it wasn't possible. They were in a bubble, a giant, perfectly round bubble that was drifting gently back up to the open air. And outside, shoulder length, ink black hair drifting eerily, was Percy Jackson. His face was grim, brow furrowed, and hands held out, raising slowly with the bubble.

It was a miracle, it wasn't possible. How could he have known? They breached the surface. And then Jackson was kneeling next to her, a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder, as she paddled, asking if she was alright.

"Simmons, you good? Listen to me, are you alright?"

She shook her head, tears still tracking down her face and dripping onto Fitz below. Percy grabbed her hand, pulled her upwards, and next thing she knew, she was sitting, cross-legged on top of the water next to him. Leo lay on the water in front of her, limp body cradled almost lovingly in the sea, as it moulded itself to his form. Percy just sat down across from her staring.

"Does anyone know where you are?" He asked after a long pause.

"No." She rasped, "I-I don't think so."

He nodded. "I can get you to shore if I have to. Shouldn't take me long if I really push it."

She stared at him. "How are you doing this? How did you find us?"

He cocked his head slightly as he looked at her. "I can control water. And really, it was only luck that I found you. I was tracking the plane. It was flying pretty low, and some sources told me that they'd seen it fly overhead in this direction."

Jemma gaped at him. The ability to control water, all water, was phenomenal, the absolute magnitude of that statement. He could control vapour in the air, most of the planet was covered in ocean, even blood– Percy Jackson could manipulate someone's blood. The potential, the danger that that held…

She opened her mouth, whether to question him further or to demand that he take her and Fitz to land, she wasn't sure, when the sound of a chopper split the air. A steady thwup, thwup, thwup, shivered across her skin, creating ripples in the water they were currently sitting on. Jackson stood up, a hand hovering over his eyes as he looked directly into the sun. The helicopter sped closer, before hovering above their heads. A hand reached down, a hand reaching out to grasp Simmons'. It felt like hope.

Perseus Jackson stared at Nick Fury, an eyebrow raised, and Nick Fury stared back. If Jemma had of known him better, she could have officially classified Fury's face of one of complete surprise, but instead, it remained decidedly blank and unimpressed.

"Perseus Jackson." He said, as an agent next to him pulled Fitz aboard, Jemma hovering anxiously behind him.

"Hello." Percy replied rather sarcastically, his brow still fixed somewhere near his hairline.

"I did not expect to see you here."

"And you are?" His tone was light, his eyes were narrowed in a wolf glare sharp enough to cut glass.

"Fury." He replied. In a movement almost too quick for the human eye, Jackson whipped his new sword from its sheath with a slithery rasp. "Nick Fury. Former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D." He clarified. Now, it took more than that to make Fury flinch, but if the blink and slight leaning back was any indication, he was unnerved.

Percy leant forward, eyes narrowed, head cocked contemplatively to the side, and looked him up and down. Obviously deciding that he wasn't who or what he'd thought he was, Jackson slid the sword back into its sheath.

"As far as I've heard, S.H.I.E.L.D. was synonymous with Hydra."

"I'm not Hydra." Fury gritted out.

"And my proof of that is?"

"Hydra tried to kill me, they almost succeeded."

"He's not Hydra." Gemma butted in, and can we please get someone to help Fitz please." Her voice was desperate. Strained. Percy's eyes softened.

"Can you handle Garrett without me?" He asked, voice low and husky.

"Maybe." Fury answered.

"Well, I'm not coming with you. If you need help, or have any intel, Gemma has my number."

And with that comment, he turned and dove into the water, disappearing into the waves without a splash or a sound.

Location: Hydra Facility, Russia

Date: 5/7/2014

Time: 01:23

Subject: Perseus Jackson

Percy's burner phone vibrated and he hauled it out of his pocket with a muffled curse.

"Hello?"

"Jackson."

Percy sighed. "I guess Dr. Simmons gave you my number. What do you want, Fury?"

"You're hunting down Hydra." It wasn't a question.

"You obviously know I am. Please stop tracking me."

"You're not exactly making it difficult to see where you've been. Four Hydra facilities, one in Croatia, another in France, two in Spain; all of them destroyed. Captives released, goons captured or killed, facilities flooded. You've been leaving a trail, if you know enough to look for it."

"And you know enough."

"Don't sass me Jackson. I want to help. You like to work alone, lone gunslinger, all that shit. Fine. But I have intel. Intel that you desperately need."

Percy hummed in reply and focused more sharply on the facility below him. It stood, a stark dark grey in the snow around it. Four grunts walked the perimeter of the barbed wire fence. Forest surrounded it. Spotlights lit the grounds. The building was humming, a hive of life and activity. And inside, was Hydra.

"I have information." Fury continued. "There is a facility in Russia. All sorts of bad shit. Where are you now?"

At this, Percy gave a mirthless laugh. "I'm in Russia. And I've hit six, not four. You still sure I need intel?"

Fury cursed, "We should be helping each other Jackson, we have the same goals here."

Percy hummed. "I'll think about it." He hung up. Shoved the phone back in his pocket and hefted the sniper rifle he'd set up on a ridge, peering through the scope carefully.

Four men in each patrol. Each patrol lasted four hours. There was a two-minute interval where they met up to change and the perimeter was unguarded. Percy was going to have to use his time wisely. Luckily, he was already heavily, he'd been staking this place out for two weeks. He wore a long sleeve turtleneck black shirt. He had holsters on his thighs and waist, his sword crossed sheathed across his back, two long knives were strapped to his waist, smaller blades hidden in his clothing in every available place possible.

It was never good to be without a weapon. That was just asking for trouble. Percy packed up his rifle. The change was coming in twenty minutes. He couldn't take out the patrol from here, the facility would be thrown into instant alarm. So, up close and personal it was.

He put the rifle back into his duffel bag, hiding the bag under a fallen tree. He didn't like to use guns too much, knives were much more Percy's style.

He pulled the neck of his shirt up over his face until it covered his nose and rested just beneath his eyes. As far as Percy was aware, the only people who knew that he'd involved himself in Hydra was Fury and Coulson's team. He'd like to keep it that way. There wasn't any reason to run around asking for trouble. Well, even more trouble. Percy pulled a knife from his sleeve. It was time to move.

Fifteen minutes until the patrol change. He crept down the ridge, slowly, quietly, the only sound came from the soft crunch of snow beneath his booted feet.

Ten minutes. The closest guard was checking his watch, shifting impatiently, the other three were convening on his position. Percy pulled a long knife from his belt, a hilt gripped in each hand.

Five minutes. They gathered in a circle, talking amongst themselves. He crept closer. Percy crouched in shadow, resting just within the tree line, waiting, watching.

Two minutes, he stood. One minute.

Time. They turned back towards the building. Percy sprinted, no longer caring about noise. In a jump boosted by his powers, he leapt the fence, ducking into a roll as he landed. The first guard was silenced, the small knife finding itself in his neck. He gurgled, and the others turned startled. But Percy was already running, his long dagger gutted the next, he spun low, as they reached for their weapons with muffled cries. The knife was pulled from flesh and found itself in the third man's eye. There was one and a half minutes left. Percy had already tarried too long. The fourth one died. No help was called. One minute.

Percy retrieved his knife again, tucked it back into his sleeve where it rested, warm and sticky against his skin. He drew his other dagger. Guns would be useless until he was in the building. He was going for subtle, for now at least. He sprinted to the building, dodging the spotlights as they rotated, back and forth across the fenced yard. It was difficult, but Percy managed. Not that black clothes in white snow helped him much. But fuck it, there was no way that he was going to wear white.

He got to the door, leant on the wall next to the hinges. The door opened with him behind it. the first guard stepped out, stopped and took a deep breath before sighing, his breath misting in the freezing area in front of him. The second poked him in the back. With a Russian curse, he kept walking, two others behind him. The fourth busied himself with closing the door. The door had to be opened from the inside. Agents would radio in at the end of their shift to open the door. This was the reason Percy waited for the guard change. This was what made this facility more difficult.

Percy flipped his daggers into a reverse grip. He had to move quickly. He couldn't let the door close. He paused, moved, quick as a blur, and tore through the men in front of him, a dark shadow spinning and churning in the snow. The agent at the door turned alarmed, panicked and reached for his radio. Percy put his blade through his heart. He dropped, scarlet staining pristine white.

Percy didn't enjoy killing, didn't like what it turned him into. But he was built for war, born into existence to destroy enemies that the Gods didn't wish to dirty their hands with. A fight was his true calling. And these men, these men were all willing members of Hydra, they served them, knowing the crimes and atrocities they committed, turning a blind eye to the pain of others. Percy didn't mind killing members of Hydra.

He grabbed the door, hand stopping it from closing, and entered. Any minute now, the alarms would go off, and Hydra would realise he was here. They'd see him on security cameras, if he didn't dispose of them. He was in a long hallway, concrete floors, concrete walls. It was a bunker. He walked forward, wiping his knives on his pants before sheathing them in a smooth motion. The security camera on the door shattered, he focused his attention on the one at the end of the hall, it soon followed.

Percy's fingers twitched. He walked, reached the end of the hallway, and turned right. According to blue prints he'd found at one of the places in Spain, this was the way to the control room, and the laboratories, the quarters were down the left. Percy pulled out his gun, pointing it carefully in front of him. A door further down opened. A man came out. Percy shot him. The gun shot was loud, bouncing echoes off the walls. A man in the room shouted, rushing outwards. Another shot. Percy entered the room, looking around carefully. A woman was strapped naked to a table, dazed as a scientist hovered over her, holding a scalpel. He put his hands in the air, she groaned. Percy shot him in the head. Gun still raised, he paced over to the woman, unbuckling her hands and feet. He hauled her onto her feet and handed her a lab coat.

"You alright? You all good?"

She nodded, head lolling forward and onto her chest.

"Yeah… you're not alright. Cool, okay. I can deal with that." Percy muttered. An alarm blared. The lights flickered red. Okay. Fuck.

He slung her arm over his shoulders, wrapped an arm around her waist and gripped the gun with the other. He dragged her from the lab. She was dead weight. The next room was a lab as well. He propped her against the wall and shot the scientist inside, before picking her up again and continuing. The fifth room they encountered was full of people in cages, huddling against the cold concrete walls. There was a bucket in the corner of each cell, filled with excrement. Percy almost gagged from the smell.

A man, skinny and scraggly, shouted when he saw the woman Percy was carrying.

"Nikita!" He shouted.

Percy looked at him. "You know her?"

She is my wife, he replied in a heavy accent.

Percy nodded. "Good. You can carry her."

The teen girl in the cage next to him stared. "We are locked in cells."

"Yep. Not for long."

"Do you have the keys?" The husband asked.

"Nope. And not enough time for it anyways." He looked around at them all. "Fuck it." Percy muttered, putting the woman, Nikita down, and drew his adamantium sword.

With an easy swing, he cut through the lock on the man's bars.

"Help her please." The guy rushed forward, grabbing the woman before she toppled over.

He moved onto the next cage.

"Don't!" An old man rasped from the back of the room. "Hydra will reward our loyalty. They will kill this gutless worm and our rewards will be plentiful."

Percy stared at him, one brow raised. "Seriously? Gutless worm."

"Hydra will raise us to be beyond men. We will be gods, revered above all others. This man will meet his end at their hand. Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place." He crowed.

"Right." Percy said. "Does anyone else share the same thinking? No? Okay then. Let's get you out of there."

In quick succession, he released the rest of the prisoners, all but the old man at the back.

"You're not going to release him as well?" The girl asked.

"He might give us away." Percy replied, a humourless smile curling the edge of his mouth. Then he remembered that they couldn't actually see it.

The lights still flickered red, Percy could hear footsteps and shouting in the distance.

"How many of you have fought before?" A few people raised their hands. "I'll give you some knives to defend yourselves. Stay in here. Keep yourselves safe. Look after each other."

"We are not coming with you?" the husband asked.

"I'm more effective when I don't have to look after a group of people who are in no condition to fight. Lock this door behind me. I'll be back. Don't open the door unless it's me. When I get back, I'll say the words 'Fuck Hydra'. Say it."

"Fuck Hydra" they rumbled back.

"Do as I said. Do you understand?" There was a dull murmur of agreement. Percy unsheathed some of his knives, handing them to the fighting prisoners.

Percy put away his sword with a metallic rasp and hefted his gun once more. He poked his head out the door, and in quick succession, fired three shots at the agent who'd just barrelled around the corner. Two hit and the agent was down. He checked the other way, finding it clear.

"Shut the door." He commanded, stepping into the hallway. The door shut with a clang behind him. Looking both ways again, he walked carefully down the corridor. The next room was empty, the next after that was filled with more prisoners. Percy repeated the same process. There weren't enough agents in the halls, which meant one thing, they were amassing somewhere, planning an ambush. And until he'd cleared out the control room, he was a sitting duck. His pace quickened.

The world was tinted red, it was an ominous colour, a violent colour. He was running, sprinting down the hall, extending his senses, finding people. They were down the hall, in a room on the left. Standing still, quietly, all facing the same direction. But they were nervous, adrenaline was running high. Well, there it was. Ambush. Percy put his gun away and drew his sword. There were pipes in the walls and floors, rushing, churning all around him, by his arms, beneath his feet. If he stepped in front of the door, they'd shoot him. No question. So, Percy decided, powers it is.

He reached the room, was half a foot from the door. He leant against the wall and closed his eyes. Concentrate. The control room was right behind them, it wouldn't do to get their computers wet and ruin all of the intel he'd come here to collect. Percy stood up straight, squared his shoulders, and pulled. He felt the tug of his gut, the power roaring through the air, through his blood. The concrete walls burst, and water poured out, forming long tentacles, wrapping and thrashing in the air. They greeted the soldiers with open arms, quickly, rapidly, snaking around their throats. Men gurgled, and as one, reached for the curl wrapped around their throats. But it was water, and their hands passed through. Percy strolled through the door easily, smoothly, as if there wasn't thirty men being strangled in front of him. The water did its job, and the men soon fell unconscious.

There were two agents in the control room, hands already raised above their heads, quivering in fear. Percy knocked them out with the hilt of his sword, before plopping down in front of the screens. He plugged in his hard drive and started the download. Hydra was as stupid as S.H.I.E.L.D. they weren't even password protected. He checked the cameras. The left-over agents were trying to get someone out of the building. He ran facial recognition on Hydra's personnel files. He was Baron von Strucker. A head of Hydra. And he was trying to escape. There was only one entrance in the building, and only one exit. It was supposed to make it harder to infiltrate. It also made it harder to escape. The download was happening. There were ten minutes left on the timer. Percy stood, his sword hanging from his hand. At least he knew where they would be. He ran, sprinting out of the control room, past the thirty or so unconscious men and back down the hallway. He passed the doors with the prisoners, passed the labs, and there he was. Surrounded by men. Making his way to the door. They turned, lifted their machine guns.

Percy ducked into a roll, dodging under gunfire before coming up, sword swinging a deadly arc as scarlet split the air. The lights blinked on and off, red fading to black and back again. it was disconcerting, and with every flicker, there were more dead. Strucker backed away, made for the door. Percy threw a knife, it flew, spinning, hilt over handle towards the back of Strucker's head. He turned at the last minute, his head spinning to see Percy. And the knife missed by an inch, carving a diagonal line from the centre of his forehead, down across his nose and cheek. He flinched, ran, and made it out of the door.

Percy dispatched the rest of the soldiers, blood dripping from his blade onto concrete floors. There was the rev of a car from outside, and Percy charged outside the door, making sure to prop it open on a dead guy as he went. Strucker was in a black jeep, skidding out of the barded wire gate, tires churning stark white snow. Percy pulled out his gun and took aim.

BANG.

Percy staggered, and reached around to his shoulder blade, feeling the bullet wound, the hot stickiness of blood. An agent had crawled to his knees, his handgun was raised in a shaking hand, the other clutched his bleeding stomach. Percy fired. The agent collapsed.

"Fuck." Percy swore. "FUCK."

Right. Prisoners. Facility. Hard drive. He had work to do. There was no one of Hydra left in the building, unless you count that weird prisoner. He turned, heading back to the control room. He collected his intel, and tread softly back to the cells, the bodies of all the unconscious agents hanging in water ropes behind him.

"Fuck Hydra." He called.

The doors opened. The prisoners stepped out hesitantly, staring incredulously at the bodies dangling from watery ropes at Percy's back, at bloody sword and clothes. He moved onto the next room and did the same thing. Some prisoners greeted each other. There were tears and hugs. It was all very touching.

"Come on." He walked, they followed. They staggered their way out of the facility, stepping and stumbling over bodies. It was still night outside. Percy wasn't surprised. He'd only been there an hour, maybe two. It wasn't a large facility. Percy led them out of the yard through the still open gate. Led them up the road a couple hundred metres and plonked the unconscious soldiers down.

"Just give me a minute." He said.

He held his arms out, concentrated, there was a roar, the sound of frozen earth cracking, and the ground erupted, geysers of water shooting upwards, reaching for the facility with beckoning hands. It swept over the building, a tidal wave of water making its presence known. The building groaned and crumbled, until all that remained was a torrent of water and wet rubble. Percy let his control go and released the water, watching as it splashed onto the ground, flooding the small bowl of forest that the bunker was located in.

He rubbed his hands together, and quirked his lips in a lopsided smile beneath his collar.

"Done." The prisoners stared.

Percy shifted, "Well, I've gotta make a call."

He rang Fury. The phone rang once, twice, before cutting off on the third ring.

"Fury." The man answered.

"Hey Nicky."

"Jackson. Reconsidered already have you." He sounded smug. Self-assured.

"I need you to pick something up for me."

"And why would I do that?"

Percy laughed, deep and cynical. "I have people here. Prisoners of Hydra. They've been experimented on. Tortured. I take that personally. You wanted me to help you. I'm helping."

"How many?"

Percy did a quick head count. "Four dozen or so. Thirty odd unconscious soldiers."

"You work quick." He sounded surprised. Percy tried not to be too offended.

"Look, dude. Are you coming or not? Because I just missed out on cutting off a Hydra head and I'm feeling pretty pissed. So either you get your flat old ass over here, or you'll know what its like when its you I'm pissed at." He hung up. Slid his phone back into his pocket.

"Can I get my knives back please." It wasn't a question. They were all handed back silently. Percy ran a hand through his hair.

"You are all gonna stay here. I've asked someone to come collect you. I'm going. So… later." He turned and disappeared through the trees.

Little did he know, that in two hours, Fury would arrive, see the prisoners, the soldiers, and the flooded rubble, before swearing violently.

"That motherfucker!"